


Lie Low

by Wordsyoucantaste



Category: DCU, DCU (Comics), Green Arrow - All Media Types, Red Hood/Arsenal (Comics)
Genre: Cute, F/M, Hero Worship, POV Third Person, Rated for safety, Reader-Interactive, some smut in the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-19 15:14:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7366882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wordsyoucantaste/pseuds/Wordsyoucantaste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Believe me, gorgeous, it's not me they're after. For once."</p><p>Gorgeous? Had he really called her that? Could he see her? See her features? Anyone could be beautiful in the dark, you couldn't see the fine details that could tip the scale either way. She tried to not think about it, blaming the compliment on the fact that she had let him in, was willing to stitch him up, help him back on his feet. Or perhaps it was just part of his charming personality.</p><p> </p><p>Arsenal gets injured and needs a place to crash for a night. What's a poor girl to do? (Written to involve the reader as the original female character).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lie Low

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in third person POV, but leaves the original female character ambiguous so that the reader can immerse themselves as the character. I wanted to experiment with this, but have found that fictions written with the "YN" trope is really distracting from the story, so maybe this can be a thing? Either way, let me know how I can improve it! Unedited still, may update in the future <3

The loud noises outside were enough to startle her, the ashes from the fire below thick enough to seep through her cracked bedroom window and cover her pillow cases with a thin layer of soot. She clutched her knees to her chest, wondering why the hell she even moved into a city like this. It's not like Star City was known for it's astounding safety precautions, but then again, now where was safe by these standards. She was begining to wonder is maybe she had made a terrible decision, lying to her brother and moving here, telling him that she found a nice place in the outskirts of the city's suburban areas; fact is she lived in a small studio apartment that was too expensive in the heart of Downtown. The heat never worked, the paint was peeling off the walls, her neighbors were rude and loud and fought too often (though calling the police for domestic violence only proved to be more trouble than it was worth when a sleezy cop tried to downplay the whole thing and take her to bed). But the bed she had was comfortable and her showeres were hot and that's all she could ask for. 

What she didn't ask for was the large amount of sirens and gunfire that rang through the streets about twenty stories below. She couldn't take this, didn't know if she'd even sleep tonight, didn't know if she'd be berated again for being slow at the diner tomorrow and being visibly tired at her night job too. 

She got up and moved to her kitchen, grabbing a glass from her cabinet and turning the faucet on, huffing her hair out of her face as the glass filled with questionable liquid that she dare not think about as far as her health was concerned. But just as she turned the tap back off, the hair on her neck rose as she heard a loud thud sound from her living and bed room. Not even hesitating, she dropped the glass, quickly reaching over for one of her kitchen knives and spinning, ready to throw it as fast as she can at the threat that loomed so close now. 

But the handle didn't leave her grasp. Instead, her breath left her chest as she narrowed her eyes, trying to make the figure out. It was large, male, and it groaned loudly, cursing under his breath as he rolled over to his back, allowing the moon to catch more of his figure. She found herself really regretting living in a building that was notorious for losing power so often. She stepped forward, her grip not loosening on her weapon as she tried to see more. He wore a hate, wore mostly red and had...  _was that a quiver of arrows on his back?_  She had heard of the Green Arrow, knew he frequented this city as much as that Bat Man did in Gotham. But this man was covered in red. And more than what his attire allowed, she noticed, when she saw his skin covered in blood. 

"Please..." His voice was soft, discordant even as he held a hand out, the other one clutching at his shoulder. "I won't hurt you, I'm one of the good guys."

She dropped her knife and noticed that his gaze followed the motion; she couldn't even see his eyes, but the way his head shifted ever so slightly was enough to tell her that he watched with extreme interest. She moved closer to him, not understand the way she found herself trusting him and not even knowing who he  _was._ But all the same, she knelt to the ground, reaching for his arm first, letting him acclimate to her touch; he jumped as her fingers found his bicep, not out of fear, but not wanting to let just seemingly delicate hands get dirty in the blood that stained him. "It's okay..." She hushed out, moving slowly to undo the clasp that held his quiver to his back over his chest and shoulder, trying to ignore the way his eyes bore into her. His eyes weren't even visable, and not for the darkeness that shrouded them, but rather because his domino mask held white instead of whatever was underneath. She thought about removing it, but knew that it wasn't her place. Dropping the quiver to the floor, she slid her hands along his body, thankful that the lack of electricity allowed her blush stained cheeks to go unnoticed. Following his arrows were a belt attached to a thigh holster and several knives. He began to lean on her, not happy that he felt like he couldn't even stand. But she accepted it all the same, wrapping her arms around his waist and helping him towards the couch that sat against the end of her bed. He crashed with an audible pang of pain and she whispered her apology. 

"It's fine, it's nothing really. Just a few scratches..." The young man let out toughly, his voice still rasping out in pain as she turned and did a small but thorough hunt for all the candles she posessed; She had been okay with sitting in the darkness by herself, but was completely unprepared to face the deafening lack of vision that she shared with this armed stranger. Well, perhaps he wasn't armed anymore, but still, she wouldn't take chances. He claimed to be a good guy, and he looked like Green Arrow. But he also had guns, had knives, didn't rely solely on a bow and arrow like the other Archer-type vigilante. She knew she could trust him, but she'd still feel safer being able to see his  _face._ Or, at least what he'd allow her to see. 

Coming back with an armful of candles, some matches and a first aid kit, she set them up on her coffee table, lighting them quickly, knowing that he was watching her every move. "You caused quite a mess down there. Will they come looking for you?"

The young man scoffed. "What do you know about all that?"

She smiled. "I know that there were bad people, and I know that someone showed up, things got messy and now there's a search going on."

"Believe me, gorgeous, it's not me they're after. For once."

Gorgeous? Had he really called her that? Could he see her? See her features? Anyone could be beautiful in the dark, you couldn't see the fine details that could tip the scale either way. She tried to not think about it, blaming the compliment on the fact that she had let him in, was willing to stitch him up, help him back on his feet. Or perhaps it was just part of his charming personality. She wondered if they were all like this, if they all had this tragic air of confidence about them. She wasn't very good at making friends, but she knew how to read people. It was part of her job. She knew of men like this, but never this bad. He was cocky, self-made success, tried his hardest at everything he did and yet, played it off like he was lazy and didn't care. He was eager to please, but inhibited by his cripling fear to let everyone down, which resulted in the later more often than not, she was sure. 

Lighting the last candle and setting up the lone flashlight she had, she could finally make out his features. His angular nose, the blood smeared over what looked like to be some tattoos on his shoulder, his skin fair but no stranger to sunlight as it was peppered with soft freckles, his red hair twisting into blood soaked locks around his face and under his blue hat that clashed horribly with his costume; a costume that was nearly singed and cut to shreds, she noted, more blood filling in the gaps. All the same, he was covered in red, but it didn't stop a sweet smile on his face that was destroyed by a smart ass remark. "Like what you see?"

"What I see is a seemingly careless vigilante bleeding all over my sofa." She quipped, grabbing the first aid kit, opening it up and noticing very quickly that something was missing. "Well, that's not good." She just about sang, getting up quickly towards the kitchen and reaching into the cabinet above her fridge. When her hands grabbed the tall and clear bottle, she pulled off her toes back onto her heels and walked back to find that the red hero had looked at her, worried. "You alright?"

"Yeah, it's just, I don't drink." He nudged towards the bottle of high proof vodka in her hand. A couple years ago, and he would have smiled at the sight. But he was struggling with his sobreity and had no interest in ruining it now. 

"Good thing I didn't bring any glasses, then." She smiled, taking a seat next to him, bottle on the table as she moved to try and take a look at just where he had been injured. "Why can't you guys just ever run around in a tee shirt and jeans? All this leather and straps and fastenings..." She mused, knowing how ridiculous she sounded. It earned her a laugh deep from within his chest. 

"I've been saying it all these years, but no, apparently uniforms and dominos come with the territory." He moved a little, pulling his shoulders back slowly and painfully when she understood where he was getting at, making it so that she didn't have to ask him awkwardly. She watched him unzip and pull off the vest that she felt was made of some kind of kevlar before she brought the bottle back over, not making eye contact. It's not like she was a stranger to men, not even shirtless ones, but this was so...  _different._

Pulling the cap off, she smiled. "This is going to hurt."

He laughed. "Can't be anyworse that being shot at with a glock." His humor faded when she poured the alcohol liberally on his shoulder, the worst of his wounds, feeling bad as he growled. "Fuck that hurts..."

"Sorry." She smiled. She shouldn't have been smiling, but seeing a man like this, a man capable of killing without a thought, a man this lethal react to her treatment like a small child who scraped his knee was just too cute. "So, do you have a name? I mean, there's the Green Arrow, but you're not in green..."

He shook his head, looking at her slowly with a smile. "Arsenal."

"Suiting." She continued to wipe away blood and felt relief when she saw the wound; ripped open skin with a cerated edged weapon. She found herself thankful she knew how to sew. "You seem to pack a small one on your person."

"That's nothing, that's just patrol gear. You should see me when I'm getting ready for a real fight."

"I'd rather see your medical bills instead." She smirked at him, her eyes finding the whites of his mask. 

"Is there a name that goes with all that charm? Or should I just keep calling you gorgeous, gorgeous?"

"You're a bad flirt."

"Apparently, not that bad..." His hand reached up and touched the heat that stained her cheeks once again. She tried to ignore it, just the same as she ignored his request for her name. But there was no denying that when he smiled at her, she felt that twinge of attraction, and she hated herself for it. How lowly of her, to feel this way about some guy who came crashing through her window, calling himself by a weaponry-based hero name, charming his way through to her... it must be his secret super power. "Okay, no name, I can respect that."

"You don't have a choice, Mr Arsenal."

"Cute. But just tell me this..." He hissed when she pushed the needle through his skin for the first time. "Anyone else would have thrown that kitchen knife in an instant. Why didn't you?"

Continuing her stitch, she glanced up at his for a second before shrugging. "Something told me you wouldn't hurt me."

"But you couldn't possibly have known that."

"I do now though."

"Maybe, maybe not." His voice was raspy again as he watched her finish up sewing him back together. She was quick and he dared not ask just how she knew how to do that so quickly. "I could hurt you right now if I wanted to."

"All your weapons are far from your reach." Her fingers pushed his shoulder back into the couch, causing his stomach to stretch out enough for her to examine the damange there. 

"I don't need a weapon to hurt you. I am a weapon."

"Clever." She cooed, soaking a small rag in vodka again, smoothing the fabric over the subtle curve of his chest down onto his ribs. "You get that one from a Mel Gibson movie?" Her hand sank lower as she failed to pay attention to the dangerous look in his eyes, not caring that he was watching her explore the length of his upper body boldly. So far, it has all just been blood, nothing too deep to need stitches. Still her hand continued south and her wrist was captured in a second, forcing her to gasp as she looked at him. "Sorry, that was really uncalled for."

"It was." He gave her a dark smile. He stood up, leaving her to the couch as he took a peek outside of her windows. "You weren't kidding. I really did make a mess. GA is gonna kill me for that one."

"You can stay here until things quiet down, if you want." She wanted to smack herself for offering, suddenly feeling like a foolish little girl with her first crush. Arsenal was new to her, but the idea of a man before her, beautiful and broken, it should take a lot more to make her so nervous around him. All the same, she wanted nothing more than to protect him while she could. As though she  _owed_ him. 

"You know, I'm not one to linger and over-stay my welcome, but I might take you up on that." He grimmaced when another soft explosion sounded below, wincing as he let out a small oops. 

Grabbing a larger candle, she walked over to Arsenal, sheilding the flame from burning out as she stood next to him. "Can I just ask you one favor then?"

He pivoted, leaning against the cool glass of the window and smiled down at her. "Anything for my nurse." More blush krept up behind her ears. 

"Well, um, do you think you could..." How could she ask this? She didn't want it to be weird, but well, she was lucky her couch was nearly ruined completely yet and the smell of dried and stale blood was starting to make her nauseas.

As though he read her thoughts, he smiled, laughing softly. "I get it. Smell of blood, gun powder and leather isn't for everyone." 

Minutes later, she found herself alone, the sound of running water through her bathroom door telling her that her guest was showering. She moved quickly, scanning her apartment for something for him to wear. Her brother always kept an outfit or two here, in case he packed poorly and forgot something. He found a pear of sweatpants and socks, holding the pants up and trying to zsize them. Arsenal was broader than her brother, but they shared a similar height though she was sure the redhead's waist was more narrow than her sibling. She only prayed that the shirt she had would fit as well. 

Meanwhile, Arsenal had cautiously stepped into the shower, letting the hot water run over his body, his eyes focused on the pool of leftover bloode that swirled down the drain. It was an odd situtation he found himself in, needing to be invisable and yet, unable to run to his safe house clear across town. He was thankful for the girl with a pretty smile and stunning eyes that took him in, stitched him up and now, let him bathe all the sweat, blood, and grime off his body. Running some shampoo through his hair, he felt his head reel for a second, shaking his vision back when he continued to rinse. Had he been poisoned? He wasn't sure. Sure, he'd been cut open pretty deep, turned into a chew toy a good few times, but these criminals weren't the poison type. They wouldn't know how to handle it, how to weild a blade coated in it. He shook the feeling off, blaming it on the headache he had. Maybe he was hungry? He considered that for a moment, wondering if maybe gorgeous in the other room would let him cook for her. "It's the least I could do" he would tell her, taking no for an answer, even if she already ate. He smiled at the prospect of getting a chance to show to her that he was a human, and that he wasn't just good at taking out low lifes but that he was good at being good and kind and thoughtful.

The dizzyness hit him again and he swayed, cursing loudly as he tried to steady himself against the slippery walls of the shower. With no effort though, he fell quickly, landing on his tailbone and he shout in pain.

She whipped her head at the sound, running as fast as she can to the bathroom only to find that her shower curtain had been torn off the hooks and before her lay a very  _naked_ Arsenal. Only, it didn't look like him anymore. The blood and dirt was gone, the kevlar crimson and black pants, the belt that held them up, the hat,  _the mask_... Now all that was in front of her was a soaking wet and very humiliated looking young man. Laughing without meaning to, she turned the shower knob off, grabbing a towel and placing it strategically over the shadows of the hero's groin, thankful that the darkness in the poorly illuminated bathroom was enough to give him  _some_ privacy. "Well beautiful, it seems that you've successfully managed to take care of me without  _any_ of my clothes on..." He let out, knowing full well that she was aware he was using humor to make this better for all involved. She slipped into the tub, tucking herself underneath his bare body and wrapping her arms around his chest to reposition him before she began checking his head. "My head is fine, it's my ego that's hurt."

"Im just checking. I'd hate to be the one to phone in to the police that some idiot vigilante died in my bath tub because he slipped on some soap." She began to lift with her knees, pulling the young man up while he used one hand to find his balance, the other clinging desperately to what little modesty he had left, not even caring that this girl probably got a full view of his ass right about now. "There we go... you're fine, probably just woozy from blood loss."

"No kidding. I'n sorry that you're the one who has to take care of my ass." He let out softly, but she only laughed as she helped him towards her bed. 

"It could be worse." She admitted, doing her best to not notice how particularly nice his backside was, something she was sure she could credit to his business running around the damn city and creating all sorts of chaos by being a hero or something like that. She lets him fall back into the mattress, pulled up the blankets around him and watched him settle back into the pillows. "Cozy?"

"Could be warmer."

"Ever heard of overstaying your welcome?" She wiggled her eyebrows a little as he began to mutter odd little apologies, not even taking the chance of putting her out jokingly. "Hey", she placed her hand on his forehead, brushing his long and now clean strands of orange-kissed hair out of his face, "I meant it when I said you can stay here. As long as you have to. Any time you need to." She wanted to hit herself over the head with cast iron for that one. What the hell was she thinking, letting this stranger use her home as a safe house? Tonight was one thing, but any time? As long as he wants? She didn't even know his name and he didn't seem too eager to give it to her, despite his lack of a mask. Still, a weak smile played on his lips when he let his head fall to the side, and she took comfort in knowing that he trusted her like that, was willing to show his face to her, let her see all of him if she only asked. "Go to sleep, Arsenal." And he listened, letting sleep take over him. 

He knew he should trust her enough like this. Shouldn't leave her alone with him while he's off edge, unconcious, not able to fight should the occasion rise. But the way she helped, the way she said nothing about his bare and exposed face and eyes, the way she teased him like she knew him, there was no way he simply couldn't say no. He needed a place to rest, he'd lost too much blood to attempt to go back out and find his way back home to Green Arrow, and she gave him the warmth that he couldn't ever ask for but god did he  _need_ it. So he let his eyes close, felt a gentle brush of soft lips against his temple as he heard a whispered "You can save the world tomorrow, my hero" before dreams took over his concious mind, drifting off to sleep. 

 

The young man let sleep take over him and she watched, not even caring that she'd be up all night, just watching him. She hadn't felt like this in a while, felt this sort of infatuation, but here it was, and she was fawning over his scared and bruised features like a pubecent teenager again. She continued to play with hair, watch his breathing, continuously check his pulse, his breathing patterns, nudging him awake for a moment or two every forty minutes or so. The sun began to peek through the high-rise buildings of Downtown Star City when she heard a soft buzzing and faint echoes of unclear words. She turned, leaving her spot by Arsenals' sleeping figure, moving towards the constant noise, finding that it was some sort of communication system, something that stemmed from both his belt buckle and a small ear piece that lay next to his mask. She assumed that was how he listened in to police reports, but when the words "Arrow to Arsenal, come in. Come on, respond damn it!" She knew it was much more than that. Fingers wrapping around the belt buckle, she figited with the thing before turning her attention back to the ear piece, pushing a button and nearly jumping when the voice on the other line sounded. "Arsenal! Is that you!" She pushed the button again, letting out a small "Hello?"

"Who are you? Where is Arsenal?"

She pressed it again. "Arsenal is safe. I'm a civilian. He's resting, he's injured but he's fine."

"Who  _are_ you?" The voice asked, getting vicious and suddenly, it was so clear now. She had heard about them both, heard about The Green Arrow and his sidekick Speedy. She put two and two together, knowing that the concern on the other end of the could only belong to a parental figure, a mentor, a teacher; Arsenal was Speedy all grown up. He was Green Arrow's partner. 

"Green Arrow?"

Nothing.

"Speedy... Arsenal is safe, I promise. I won't let anything happen to him. I promise you..."  _Now_ she felt absurd, making promises to another masked vigilante, and through a tiny ear piece none the less. 

She heard the fuzz of the comm coming alive again, a hesitation and then "I hope for your sake that you're telling the truth".

She put the ear piece down, looking back towards her temporary ward, smiling as he still slept. "I'd never let anything happen to you..."

 

()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()

 

He fluttered his eyes open, stunned that he managed to sleep straight through the night. That is, until he smelled this smell that permeated through out the whole apartment and he found himself salivating excessively. He sat up, letting the blankets pool around his waist... looking towards a small nightstand, he saw a glass of water with a tylenol next to it, framed by a small pile of clothes. He grabbed at the fabric, unfolding it, and seeing a pair of sweatpants, some sock and a shirt that was probably suited better for someone smaller than him. Looking around and seeing that his sweet little nurse was busy in the kitchen, he took her ignorance of his state, moving quickly to roll out of bed and slip the sweat pants on. Only, he wasn't as fast as he'd hoped. 

Dusting her hands on her stomach, she turned and instantly gasped, covering her mouth when she should have covered her eyes; Arsenal was awake. And struggling to get his second leg into the pants she laid out for him. And she saw  _everything_ and _god did she blush she was sure she would cry._ From his end, he began laughing nervously. "Sorry, I tried, I really did" She believed him, but all the same, she knew what he looked like probably more intimately than she'd prefer and he knew she knew. She began shaking her head when he walked towards her. 

She turned back to her pan, stirring it's contents around as though she  _had_ to, anything to not  _make eye contact._ Still, he braced himself around her, leaning over her much smaller frame as he let out a low moan, inhaling deeply. He chose to not wear the shirt. Of course he didn't wear the damn shirt. "You're going to make someone very happy one day if you're doing all this just for shits and gigs."

She shook her head. "I figured after last night, you'd probably be hungry." If only she knew. "I hope you're not vegan or vegitarian. I should have checked first, but I just wanted you to eat something when you woke up, you'll need it to take that tylenol." He hadn't even thought about the medication, despite the way his head was pounding inside his skull. 

"Hard core carnivore here, baby." He smiled, pivoting and leaning against the counter. "Want some help there? I'm not just good at shooting arrows, you know."

She smiled, pausing to look at him; the light illuminated him perfectly and somehow, he was more attractive now than he was last night. His skin bright and clear, his smile uninhibited by some red mask, his beautiiful green eyes gleaming down at her. And if that wasn't enough to make her heart skip a couple beats, then perhaps below his chin would, because  _damn it all to hell_ if she, a straight female, couldn't fully appreciate a strong chest and beautifully muscular arms, all framing the piece de resistance that was his abs. Her eyes fell down, noticing that his pants were sitting a bit too low to be suitable for most audiences, and  _fuck, viewer discretion advised_ as she followed the way his hip bones framed the subtle swell of his stomach and she swore she could see the small trail of hair that traveled from his belly button trail a little too low and she swallowed hard. "No, i've got it."

He watched her. Watched how she finally looked at him, noticed all that he was, how her eyes practically devoured him and he felt a small heat stir and circulate near his hips, biting his lower lip when she struggled to not make eye contact again, pulling the cooking bacon from the pan to drain of hot grease on some paper towels. She grabbed a nearby oven mit and pulled the door open, pulling out a muffin pan filled with... "Oh my fucking god, you made blueberry muffins?"

She giggled. "You like them?"

"It's my kriptonite." He didn't know if she'd understand the joke or not, either way, his point was made when he moved to smell them closely, nearly coming undone right there at how marvelous they looked. "Remind me to crash through your window again more often."

"Speaking of which..." She began to pull plates out. "Your little communication thingy went off this morning."

Arsenal's eyes went wide with horror. "Oh fuck!" He ran across the room, pressing the switch to connect to the other end, begging for someone to say something. No one said a thing. "GA! Yo! Arrow! It's Arsenal... fucking hell, someone fucking answer!"

"I spoke to him already."

"Hey, any-" Arsenal stopped abruptly, turning his worried face into a horrified smile as he looked back towards her as she carried two plates towards him. "You  _what!"_

"It was going off like crazy. I spoke to him, to The Green Arrow, told him you were safe." She set the plates on the coffee table, taking a seat properly. "Should I not have done that?"

"Well..." He ran his fingers through the thick of his hair at the base of his neck. "I mean, not realy, but... he believed you? Didn't give you hell?"

"Well..." She bent over and took a small bite of her eggs, not even bothering to wait for him. "After I mentioned your name, he seemed to calm down a bit."

"My name? Hearing you say Arsenal can't mean much to him." He took a spot next to her, still watching her. 

"That's because I told him that  _Speedy_ was safe." His jaw dropped. "Oh don't be so shocked. You shoot arrows for christ's sake. You dress in red and the man on the comm was concerned the same way my  _dad_ was worried about me when all that business with Arkham Assylum in Gotham went down."

"You were-?"

"Miles and miles from it. Point is, he was irrationally protective. I put two and two together, knowing full well that Speedy must be around my age and full on an adult. It only made sense, right?"

He shook his head. "There's no keeping anything from you."

"Eh" she took another bite of her bacon. "I still don't know who you  _actually_ are. So there's that." She wiped her hands on her napkin, getting up and heading towards the nightstand and grabbing the bottle of medicine. She threw it at him, smiling when he caught it. "Take one please."

He popped one back into his mouth, swallowing it dry and watching her move around the apartment, doing a whole bunch of nothing; straightening dishes inside the sink, tugging the blankets on her bed to look neater, but not fully made up, stacking up some books and magazines that fell over on her book case. Watching her move, watching her avoid him, knowing she felt bad for figuring him out mostly, that she had spoken on his behalf, that she possibly overstepped... it's why she made breakfast, he realized. He abadoned his food (much to his stomach's dismay) and caught her by the bed again, grabbing her arms. She let out a small struggled "what?"

He looked at her and felt sick. He wanted her. He needed her. Needed to be drowning in all that was her goodness, that was her purity, needed to worhsip her. And after all that she had given him, he was positive that this could be the one thing he could give in return because he watched as her lips parted subtly, her body leaning in towards his, her breathing pausing completely as she waited for him. He leaned in, pressed his lips against hers rather violently and she matched his eagerness, pushing him backwards onto the bed, crawling on him and straddling his waist.

In a flurry of heated kisses and soft moaning, he found himself without the sweatpants again, but found more pleasure in how quickly she undressed, her body pressed against his as she ground her hips into him, coating him with her obvious want as she sighed loudly. His hands roamed, began to idolize every inch of her that he could, his lips finding the weight of her chest, nipping and kissing at the sensitive skin of her nipples, watching her nearly reach her climax just by rubbing herself against his painfully hard errection.

It was unlike anything he had ever felt before, unlike anything he had ever seen before. The way the light of the still early morning accentuated her body, the way it highlighted the arch in her back as she rode him so slowly, he thought he might cry at the sight. His hands lay on her hips, resting for support but letting her do what she would to him, and honestly, he couldn't ask for anything more. He wanted her to take this from him, to use him and enjoy him as much as she could possibly want to before he was forced to leave. Still, he thrust upwards, meeting her pace, growling low in his throat as she whined, needing more something. He brought a hand from her waist down, resting his palm against the stomach as he brushed his thumb against her clit, watching her nearly scream at the contact. God, she was perfect and he was not worthy of such a blessing, not worthy of such an angel, not the way she brought him to pure bliss as she orgasmed with "Arsenal" falling from her mouth, coming himself in the same moment. 

He thought it would end there. That she would kick him out of her bed, out of her home (hopefully with one of those yummy looking muffins in hand). Instead, he found himself taking her over and over again, for what felt like hours even. And when he was spent, he'd rest with her on his chest until she needed more, and he'd joke with her and say that maybe she's had enough, but that's when she says something that brings his world crashing down around him. "I don't think I can quit you. You're a drug." So he doesn't let her. Doesn't let her quit him, let's her abuse him, let's her dote upon him, let's her break him and piece him back together. 

He disappears with shame on his heart and face, knowing that she'd wake up to him no longer there. Still, he knows he'll be back. Especially when she wakes up, her heart wanting to break a little at the missed warmth, until she finds a small piece of paper with poorly constructed handwriting on it. She smiles, holding the paper close to her chest as she falls back into her pillows, the smell of him lingering and making her miss him even more, making her sigh with his name on her lips. "Roy".

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
